Alas, this places me on direct route between him and his food/litter tray/water carefully elevated on an old cat food box to bring it into his easy reach. This, along with my fussing him, creates a kind of restlessness, which translates into wanting to get off the sofa. So I must get out his way, and quickly enough to avoid him taking a riskier route and ending up wrapped around a coffee table leg after a depth perception fail or bouncing off the chair after a leap falls short.
Naturally, he didn't really want to get off the sofa, so it's not really worth my going back to the laptop, particularly as the next thing he's going to do is beg for his lost youth in the middle of the kitchen, which will require some gentle soothing strokes and a few sips of water (which can get extended enough to require me sitting cross legged in the middle of the kitchen helping him drink for a full round of Disco Zoo**).
Then he'll come back to the sofa, and the dance will start again.
He's too lovely for this to be annoying in any way (as anyone who knows Teasel knows - this is the cat who will put an extra purr on his purrs because he heard you liked purrs***) but it is making me a little slower to speak and respond at the moment. This doesn't mean I'm not looking when I can, and responding as much as I'm able and I definitely care but oh, little cat.
*Lugtop = a laptop large enough to give you pins and needles in your knees should you be foolhardy enough to use it directly on lap.
**Disco Zoo = A smartphone game where you "rescue" animals in a variety of cheerfully coloured helicopters from various exotic parts of the world to put in your disco zoo. When the animals fall asleep they stop earning money, so you need to wake them up with a Disco party; when you get too many animals to fit in the pens, you can either release them or send them into space. Releasing them gets you more Disco parties, but then you miss out on prepping a bear for space (platypus, unicorn, polar bear).
***One of our friends hypothesises that Teasel has a double purr-o-tron; we think he may have our other cat's purr (which is almost too tiny to hear) in addition to his own.